Perfect self.

I am afraid of not being perfect.

I am constantly scrutinizing my skin, the way my body fits in a slightly tighter dress, the way people look at me when I'm outside, the way I perform in both my social and work life.

However, the more I try to chase perfection, the more imperfect I became. The more I try to control my food intake, the more hungry I became. The more I try to say the right things and act the right way, the more lonely I felt. The more I try to control how others perceived me, the more I lost control over myself.

It's funny how that works. The more you want something, the faster it runs away from you.

So what then? Should I just be ok with never being perfect? But then who is going to love me if I'm not perfect? Because the only time my parents loved me was when I was their perfect, well-behaved child.

The truth is, I'm not perfect. I'll never be perfect.

My parents only wanted me to be perfect because they didn't know how to be ok with their own imperfections. They didn't know any better. So then, the voices in my head, all these years, telling me that I'll never be loved if I wasn't perfect -- they weren't mine.

So what then?

I forgive and let go. I forgive myself for all of my past mistakes. I forgive my parents because they were just trying to do a good job. They were just scared of failing to protect their little girl.

So I will break this cycle. Now.

I allow myself to be imperfect.